


Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

by luclipse



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Drama, I don't know why I decided to write something so depressing, Like OH GOD THE DRAMA, M/M, One-sided Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, if anyone needs a good cry maybe this can help i dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7020055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luclipse/pseuds/luclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is getting married, but to a lovely bride instead of me. (One-sided iwaoi, Oikawa's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds

**_“They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.”_ **

**_―_ ** _Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince_

\---~~------------------~~---

 

I check in the mirror once, twice, three times. My suit is immaculate, shoes shined and auburn hair perfectly styled, but something’s not right. I undo my tie and tie it again. Under, around, through the hole, then pull. I pull up my socks, rebutton my cuffs and straighten my shirt.

 

Perfect. Everything is perfect. My career, my friends, my apartment, my life in general.

 

Ah, but there it is. I spot what’s the matter. It’s my face. My expression, more like. Watery eyes filled to the brim with emotions, eyebrows harshly knit together and a quivering, frowning mouth. It’s the textbook picture of someone whose happiness was ripped right from their very soul. It’s understandable, really. After all, today is the day I stand next to the love of my life while he marries his college sweetheart.

 

There’s a knock at the door.

 

“Oikawa-san?”

 

I barely have time to rub the tears from my eyes before shouting, “Come in, Sawamura-san.”

 

A lanky figure pokes his head though the doorway, immediately recognizable as the middle-blocker from Iwa-chan’s current volleyball team.

 

“The groom is calling for his best man.” He says calmly.

 

My heart leaps to my throat and a whirlwind of thoughts overcome me. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” I lie. I need to get myself under control first, or the groom will see straight through me. Sawamura nods curtly and leaves. I envy his tranquility during such a stressful time. I’m sure the rest of the house is in a panic.

 

I take a deep breath in to steady myself and look in the mirror one last time. Thankfully, my eyes aren’t noticeably red, so I replace my emotions with a fake, smiling mask. It’s a mask I’ve perfected to an art, nary a crack to indicate I’m feeling anything other than overjoyed. Lately, it’s even been able to fool Iwa-chan, though I suspect it’s only because he’s been so preoccupied.

 

Squaring my shoulders, I turn and exit the guest bedroom that’s been set up as a changing room. I’m dragged forward by muscle memory, retracing the steps I’ve taken to my best friend’s room ever since elementary school. Eventually I reach a familiar door. I knock a little tune before calling, “Best man, reporting for duty!”

 

“You’re actually knocking, Shittykawa?” Replies a gruff voice. It’s enough to make me want to melt.

 

Entering his room I say, “Right, right, silly me.” My breath catches as I take a look around. It’s exactly the same as I remember it, all those years ago before we parted ways after high school.

 

And there he is.

 

He’s dressed in a coal black suit, tailored to perfection so that it hugs his muscular figure in all the right ways. The hair he’s always had in spikes is now much the same, but just a little bit longer. Clean-shaven and with a practically glowing, tan complexion, he looks like a man at the top of his game.

 

“What’re you gawking at?” He snaps, though his smile betrays his happiness.

 

“No need to be grumpy, Iwa-chan. This is the happiest day of your life, so far.” I retort, but not without wounding my heart in the process. “So what was so important that I had to dash up here, anyway?”

 

Iwaizumi smirks. “As the best man, I thought you’d be better at keeping track of the time.”

 

I glance at the clock in the corner.

 

_6:18 PM._

 

Shit. The ceremony starts in less than an hour. How has time managed to pass so quickly?

 

Our eyes lock and I pray that my face doesn’t give me away, yet Iwaizumi’s gaze becomes serious and searching and I fear for the worst.

 

“So, Oikawa, tell me…”

 

My palms are sweating waterfalls as a flash of alarm courses through my body.

 

“Do I… Look okay?”

 

Eh?

 

His stare is intense, but now I notice the rosy tinge on his cheeks and arms meekly raised to either side of him, as if expecting scrutiny.

 

This is the first time in my life I’ve ever heard Hajime Iwaizumi ask about his appearance so directly instead of fidgeting with a button-up shirt or glaring at himself in a mirror. The unexpectedness almost makes me want to laugh.

 

“Hm…” I drawl while exaggeratedly circling him like a hawk, although I don’t really need to. I helped pick out the suit out myself. In any case, Iwaizumi is a sight to behold with or without a suit, in my opinion at least. Facing him and putting a hand to my chin I say, “Everything looks fine, except for that stain.”

 

_“What!?”_ He exclaims and looks all over himself.

 

“Kidding~, only kidding~!”

 

“Shittykawa…” Iwaizumi mutters darkly. “If I didn’t have a houseful of in-laws to impress downstairs, your ass would be flying through that window.”

 

“Oh, lucky me then!” I leer back at him.

 

“Take this seriously, will you?”

 

As the words leave his mouth, I spot a few bits of misplaced hair. He’s probably been running his hands through it too much.

 

“In that case your hair needs fixing.” I retort.

 

“What? Where?” Iwaizumi proceeds to pat down his head, causing even more strands to come loose from their gel-spiked prison.

 

Shooing him to sit on his bed I say, “Just let me handle this, you’re making things worse! I won’t tolerate bad hair on such an important day, or on any day for that matter! Where’d you put your hair-gel?”

 

“Over by the dresser.” He sighs dejectedly.

 

I find it easily enough. Bringing it over to the bed, I pause for a second to assess the damage. There’s a part to fix to the right, so I pop open the tube and squeeze a dollop into the palm of one hand. Nearing my face to his head, I start forcefully gluing hair back into place. My pulse quickens as I feel his warm breath glide over my neck, and I know his eyes can only stare at my throat while I’m this close to him. Guiltily, I wonder what it would be like for Iwaizumi’s lips to close the distance and leave kisses trailing up to my jaw, my cheek, my own lips. I’m suddenly glad at least the gel in my hand is cool, since the rest of my body is now on fire.

 

I finish as quickly as possible, smoothing out this and that until everything is perfect. I tell him I’m done, then step back a bit to admire my work. I receive no answer, instead he’s looking down at the hands in his lap. They’re shaking almost imperceptibly.

 

I suppose this is what people call pre-wedding jitters, though I can’t say from experience. Gingerly, I grasp his shoulder. “You alright?”

 

He looks up at me surprised, like he’d been pulled back down to Earth. “Yeah…” He mutters. “Yeah, I’m alright, just… I can’t believe this is finally happening.” He shakes his head and a small grin plays on his lips. “After months of talking about it, all the planning and invitations and rehearsals… It’s finally right here in front of me.”

 

This is usually the part in the movie where the groom can be seen pacing about, mumbling something about not being ready, not thinking he can go through with this. But not Hajime. The eyes looking at me are filled with excitement and determination in equal parts. They have the feeling of a seasoned player stepping onto the court for the most important match of their life.

 

Glaring down at his palms again, he takes a deep breath in and quickly exhales, then jumps to his feet. “I’m ready.” He says, and I believe him. There’s nothing more I can say to him, no discouragement that can dissuade him from marrying someone that isn’t me.

 

Noticing my silence, he asks, “How about you? You look a little pale yourself.”

 

_It hurts!_ I want to scream. _I don’t want to pretend everything is okay when I’m dying inside!_

 

Muscle by muscle, I force the corners of my mouth to move upwards somewhat and answer, “I can’t believe today’s finally here, either.” To distract him from the obvious front I’ve put up, I go back to the dresser and pick up the boutonniere of white flowers. “Just one last touch.” I say, then carefully pin it through the buttonhole of his suit pocket. “There.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He gives me one of his rare, honest smiles and my heart skips a beat from its brilliance. I feel like crying now more than ever, knowing that someone else has probably seen this smile more than I have when it used to be mine and mine alone.

 

To stop the tears biting at my eyes, I push him towards the door and hurriedly say, “Well, we’d better go downstairs, then. Nothing good can come out of being late to your own wedding.”

 

Just as I’m about to turn the knob, there’s a short knock and shy voice inquires, “Iwaizumi-san? Is Oikawa-san with you? The bride wants to see him, so…”

 

Iwa-chan and I share a look, the both of us a little confused at the odd request.

 

I open the door to find a bespectacled bridesmaid. “Ah, Hinazaki-san. We met at the rehearsal ceremony, didn’t we? I’ll come with you right away.”

 

Apparently shocked that I’d remembered her name, Hinazaki blushes and nods before leading the way down the hall. I tell Iwa-chan to hurry himself downstairs and that I’d be with him soon enough, then follow the maid of honor down the hall to the master bedroom, which was kindly designated as the bride’s preparation room.

 

Hinazaki doesn’t bother knocking and scurries into the room to announce my arrival, and after a polite pause I go in as well.

 

The bride to be is breathtaking. A strapless, flowing gown does her slim figure justice, while an elegant and braided up-do draws just enough attention to her neck and the pretty features of her face.

 

“Himawari-san-”

 

“Kayo.” She corrects good-naturedly.

 

“Only if you call me Tooru, Kayo-san.” I admonish. “You look stunning!”

 

“Thank you very much! You wouldn’t believe how long it took us to pin up my hair.” She says and looks around at her bridesmaids. “What would I do without them? Although I think it’s time the two of us talked a bit alone.”

 

I panic for just a moment. Have I done something to upset her? I can’t even remember seeing her for the past week!

 

At her queue, her friends shuffle leisurely from the room. From the laid-back atmosphere, I assume that I have nothing to fear, though cautiously I still ask, “What can I do for you, Ms. Bride?”

 

The words barely leave my mouth before a heaving sigh shakes Himawari’s body, one hand clutched at her chest and another gripping the chair beside her. In surprise, I instinctively jump towards her. “Kayo-san? Kayo-san, are you alright?”

 

Before I can reach her, she holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m fine, Tooru. The pressure is just getting to me, that’s all.” She pulls out the chair she’s been leaning on and takes a seat, leaving me to stand awkwardly in front of her. At the sight of me, she lets out a small giggle. “There’s no need to be so serious. I called you here so the girls could leave for a little while. I love them to bits, but I need some piece of mind before I can walk out onto that altar.”

 

“Me? Serious? You must be kidding. There’s not a more carefree person in this entire house!” I laugh flakily. It’s just like her to put on a brave face. I have to hand it to Iwa-chan, he’s found himself one hell of a woman. By nature she’s a loving soul, and yet she has the same tenacity as her fiancé, making her more than capable of dealing with any temper he throws her way, though I know for a fact those instances are rare. Much rarer than the fits he throws with me, at least, but part of that is my fault, anyway.

 

That is why, despite the miserable situation I find myself in, there’s absolutely no way I can bring myself to hate her. Believe me, I’ve tried, and when I hold a grudge I can do so for many, many years. Take Tobio Kageyama as the perfect example. More than a decade after I first met the prick, I still cuss at the sight of him. Through unfortunate circumstances, by the way, we happen to be neighbors, so most mornings I’m swearing like a sailor till I’m backing out of the garage or dumping all of my junk mail into his over-stuffed letterbox.

 

“Good.” She replies. “It must mean Hajime isn’t doing too badly himself.”

 

I grin at the truth in her words. “Yeah, he’s doing just fine.”

 

Himawari looks up at me with an astoundingly genuine smile, the kind that crinkles the eyes and brightens the world. “He’s so lucky to have you as a friend, Tooru. He may not show it all the time, but he cares about you very much. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t at least mention your name.”

 

Ah, here come the tears again.

 

See? How could anyone possibly hate this woman?

 

_I care about him very much, too._

 

I clear my throat before saying, “Well, the feeling is mutual, but don’t tell him I said that.” I wink, which elicits another smile from her, though if my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, I think this one definitely has a sad undertone to it.

 

I’ve always wondered whether Himawari has known this entire time about my feelings for Iwa-chan. If I were more old-fashioned, I’d chalk it up to a woman’s intuition. She’s never hinted anything explicit, although I can’t help but notice a soft feeling in her eyes when our conversations turn silent. Maybe it’s sympathy, maybe it’s pity. I’m too terrified to ask which one.

 

“I can’t ask you to promise me anything,” Himawari says softly, “but please tell me you’ll continue to take care of Hajime, for as long as you can.”

 

There it is, that same look.

 

Laughing airily, I reply, “He’ll be in your capable hands soon, I’m sure the two of you won’t need me around so often.”

 

A soft hand grasps mine tightly. I look down at it in surprise, then straight back into Himawari’s melting gaze.

 

Sympathy. I’m sure it’s sympathy.

 

“You will always be important to him, Tooru. Please, never forget that.”

 

Damn it! Can’t you tell how much I already want to stop your wedding? How much I want to marry your fiancé instead? How I’d rather be burning in Hell than watch someone else meet Hajime at the altar?

 

She says it out of sympathy, but the words only spite me. They remind me that the importance Iwaizumi and I have for each other are on completely different frequencies, now and forever.

 

And yet I only have myself to blame. I’ve had so many opportunities to confess to him, so many opportunities to give myself closure. I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible without risking our friendship, and now I’m facing the consequences in one of the most painful ways possible.

 

I try so hard not to let my face turn sour, for Himawari’s sake. For Iwa-chan’s sake. Not so much for my own sake.

 

Lightly, I take the beautiful bride’s hand into my own and pull her to her feet, my silence the only answer to her plea because I can’t guarantee anything, no matter how much I want to. Like always, I want to wish these feelings away so I can stay by his side forever.

 

Love is a stupid thing, isn’t it?

 

“It’s almost time.” I murmur instead. “I’m sure your friends are starting to worry.”

 

“You’re right.” She says. Her arms begin to tremble.

 

Squeezing her hand gently, I tell her a few comforting words, though they’re more to steady my own nerves than hers. She takes a deep breath and starts shooing me from the room to lighten the mood, and with a wave I’m hurrying out the door and ushering her bridesmaids inside.

 

_What a woman you’ve found yourself, Hajime._

 

* * *

 

The sun throws its dying rays of light towards the expectant crowd, staining the entire yard with yellows, oranges and pinks. A familiar tune plays loudly in the background, catching the attention of everyone present.

 

As fast as her legs can take her, a flower girl no older than five skips between the pews and throws petals that eventually float to the red carpet below her. If they hadn’t done so before, all now turn their heads towards a special corner of the house.

 

The tune changes.

 

And here comes the bride.

 

All dressed in white.

 

A stern-looking man leads her by the arm, walking her down the aisle slowly, slowly, slowly.

 

It takes them eons to reach the white wooden arch acting as an altar, but it also feels like a heartbeat.

 

The groom fidgets in anticipation, catching my eye briefly before stealing a glance over his shoulder. His wife-to-be arrives by his side and I begin to die inside.

 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

 

The father leaves. The lovers share a look as best they can, the thin veil the only separation between them.

 

I swallow my heart in the meantime.

 

Words tumble out of the old priest’s mouth, threatening to drown me before I can understand what they mean.

 

“… speak _now_ or forever hold your peace.”

 

**_I object!_ **

****

**_Stop!_ **

****

**_Please, stop!_ **

 

“… Then I now pronounce you, husband, and wife.”

 

**_NO!_ **

****

**_Don’t do this to me!_ **

****

**_Don’t leave me!_ **

 

“You may now kiss the bride.”

 

The veil is lifted, a passionate kiss exchanged, hooting and hollering from all sides.

 

Happiness is suffocating me.

 

Everyone is standing, moving, leaving. To the dining room. Cake is cut.

 

Am I remembering to smile? Am I breathing correctly? Is my walking okay?

 

Time to sit, time to eat, almost time for speeches.

 

“Hey, can I get a picture in first?”

 

It’s Iwa-chan. He’s beckoning the photographer and heading my way, along with Himawari. I almost drop my plate, my hands are shaking so much.

 

Before I know it, I’m dragged by the sleeve until Iwa-chan has an arm around my shoulder and his other around Himawari’s waist. Grinning at me, he says, “You get to be in the first picture I take with my wife.”

 

The first picture? Why does that make me so damn happy?

 

I smile and manage to somehow look into the camera.

 

The flash goes off and it makes my eyes tear. I never did like professional cameras.

 

I start to wonder when it’s become possible for there to be rain indoors. There’s so much wetness on my face, it may as well start thundering soon.

 

“Oi, Oikawa?”

 

I can’t help it. I’ve started to cry, and now I’m sobbing in the middle of the living room. People are starting to stare.

 

“You’re so happy, Iwa-chan, I can’t help it! I can’t help it…” I mutter over and over and over.

 

His face softens. I know what he’s thinking. I’ve always been more sensitive than I’ve let on to others.

 

The room seems to agree. They unanimously agree that I’m an overemotional friend incapacitated with joy.

 

I’m actually selfish. Really, really selfish.

 

So what happens next, you ask? I’m the main character of this story, aren’t I? So where’s my happy ending?

 

I don’t know how the tears were stopped, I don’t care to remember if I gave my speech.

 

The day ended just like all days do eventually. So did the next day and so did the next.

 

They say time heals all wounds, but we all know that’s a blatant lie, a saying spread by those who’ve never had their heart broken. Change is common, not inevitable, even given all the time in the world.

 

And so, time dragged on. Iwa-chan has three children now. I’m the godfather of the oldest. They moved into a bigger house not too long ago, though it’s out in the countryside so I can’t visit as often. I’m more dedicated to my work now more than ever, which helped me onto the Olympic team.

 

Sometimes things are almost alright, seeing Iwa-chan as happy as he is, sometimes it’s another straw piling onto the camel’s back. While his family regularly reminds me of the closure I’ve received, my regret is keeping me from letting go.

 

Straw after straw, week after week, year after year, I feel myself growing more distant to him. Sad as it is, I can’t deny that I haven’t seen it coming. In that way I suppose I’m a coward, just letting time decay this relationship into a beautiful memory, but I prefer that to the alternative.

 

For now that’s the end, nothing more to add. In a surprising twist, the hero chooses friendship over love…

 

And yet he suffers for it all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Sheesh, I don’t think I’ve ever written something quite so depressing… The idea randomly popped into my head a little while ago and I figured I’d take a break from my main Fairy Tail fic With Our Love Comes Patience (on my fanfiction page), get the creative juices flowing and all that. Sorry this one-shot drags out so long. It’s a bit of stress-relief as well, since I’ve fallen behind on exam studying…  
> This is the second Haikyuu!! fic I’ve written, the first one is still in process. Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as heart-breaking.  
> Also, I haven’t actually read Clockwork Prince, I found the quote on Goodreads and thought it fit perfectly.  
> Please check my page for my fanfiction account btw (shameless self-promoting again), that’s usually where I post work first since this account is still relatively new.  
> Till next time,  
> ~Luclipse.


End file.
